In looking for the best run commuting backpack, I stumbled upon GORUCK. Their GR1 is considered by many people to be the ultimate everyday backpack. So can the backpack that can do anything also run commute? Let’s find out…

If you want to learn how to do web design, just look at www.goruck.com . The design is brilliant, clean, crisp, it won me over. If a purse company had a site with this kind of energy I would have bought one and would be trying to use it as a run commuting man bag. It’s the ultimate salesman for Goruck!

These bags are meant for rucking. Which is basically walking around with a heavy pack. They sell weights to put in them from 10 lbs to 45 lbs (I have a 45 lb one that I have been playing with). And, if that’s not enough, they also host GORUCK events which are basically SEAL Team/boot camp events. Think of them as team building events for badasses.

So for run commuting they are overbuilt in almost every way, stress points tested to over 400 lbs. They also come with their “Scars Lifetime Guarantee” – basically if the bag breaks while using it, they will repair or replace it for free. Forever bag? OK, I’m listening.

During the initial unboxing, I was a little underwhelmed. The bag is all 1000D Cordura – it is stiff and boxy, just like a brand new pair of Rainbow sandals are stiff flat boards that age into beauty and comfort like this…

I’m told the bag eventually molds to you, the plastic frame sheet conforms to your back and the straps shape to your shoulders. These are the beastly straps.

Thick and almost over padded, but surprisingly comfortable. The pack feels like you are giving a koala a piggy back ride. And if that doesn’t sound awesome to you then you are insane!

Here is one of the interesting things that is counter-intuitive to a running backpack.

The back has zero ventilation. The koala will get your back a little sweaty. But because it’s 1000D Cordura it doesn’t absorb the sweat, it just runs off. So it’s weirdly comfortable. I’ve run to work several times with it already in the hot, humid, Charleston weather and it’s been fine. All backpacks give me back sweat so it doesn’t bother me at all. Also the 1000D is basically rain proof. There are reviewers who do shower tests and the inside stays dry.

The bag opens up like a suitcase fully if you want. It makes packing it super easy. I can fold my clothes big and flat like they are going in a drawer. In usually roll my clothes to fit in a regular bag. In fact a few days ago I got my free scrubs delivered to me at work and there was still enough room on the run home. That’s my regular junk, my scrubs I wore that day, my towel and toiletries, 5 pair of scrubs and two scrub jackets! It’s the TARDIS of backpacks. It says 26 liters but it carries more. Magic!

The inside has zippered compartments.

The bag opens up like a suitcase fully if you want. It makes packing it super easy. I can fold my clothes big and flat like they are going in a drawer. In usually roll my clothes to fit in a regular bag. In fact a few days ago I got my free scrubs delivered to me at work and there was still enough room on the run home. That’s my regular junk, my scrubs I wore that day, my towel and toiletries, 5 pair of scrubs and two scrub jackets! It’s the TARDIS of backpacks. It says 26 liters but it carries more. Magic!

The inside has zippered compartments.

There is an elasticized pouch on the back of the bag which will hold 3 Nalgene bottles side by side perfectly.

There is an elasticized pouch on the back of the bag which will hold 3 Nalgene bottles side by side perfectly.

There is a section of MOLLE webbing at the top back inside of the bag that can be used for whatever you need. Look up MOLLE pouches and you will see how easy it is to customize this bag. There is MOLLE on the outside front and sides.

The back padding hides their “Bombproof” laptop carrier.

The back also has the removable frame sheet which you can take out to make a floppier bag or replace with a stiffer one. This is what makes it so comfortable. I can throw in soup cans for lunch and run without then smacking me in the kidneys for 5 miles. It also helps the pack stay flat and flush against your back.

The outside slash pocket is a miss for me. It’s way too deep and if the pack is full then it’s a tight squeeze to get things in and out. And it’s deep, all the way down to the bottom.

That’s my own patch I put on it. A runic compass, so I don’t get lost. I think it’s broke.

However, it contributes to the bags clean lines, so I’m torn. I would like a Jansport-style zippered pouch, but I love how flat the bag rides on your back. The koala hugs you close.

There is a saying in mountain biking “Strong, light, cheap. Pick two”. So, basically if something is strong and light, it’s not cheap. If something is cheap and strong, it’s not light. This phrase is attributed to the founder of Trek Bikes who further said that his main concern was that equipment should be strong and durable first. Then, try to make it as light as possible without making it weak. Cost is the last concern. As a run commuter, I get caught up in light gear. But, often times light is not durable.

I mean just look at the stitching on the straps and handle. Oh almost forgot there is a Velcro access for a hydration bladder.

So, the GR1 is a tank, but like a tank it’s heavy. GORUCK says it’s 3.2 pounds. For comparison, the Under Armour Storm backpack here is 1 pound 3 ounces and they both fit about the same amount of stuff.

It is strong as shit, but heavy AF. And here is what could be the deal breaker; the price. $395. That’s not a typo. But, they do offer 25% off for firefighters, police, teachers, students, EMS, military, veterans, and government employees. You probably know someone that will qualify to make the bag $300. Still steep, but I gotta to tell ya, I haven’t looked back yet. I’m loving this thing. It’s the Cadillac of backpacks – over built and super comfortable. They have a 21L version called the Rucker that is pretty much the exact same pack without the laptop compartment and it’s $265 before the discount and $199 after discount, which is better. The Rucker has a thicker, stiffer non-removable frame sheet and has a little bit of difference inside.

That’s an article comparing the two bags.

I really don’t know what to say. GORUCK’s site pumped me up and all the other reviews I read online convinced me to try it and the bag itself has made me fall in love with it. It shouldn’t make sense. It’s not feather-light but it makes up for it by being almost indestructible and just molds to your body like a nice pair of leather shoes. It’s just a soft, comfortable suitcase that you can run with.

They make other smaller bags, too, so check out their sizing and comparison pages to learn more.

Definitely check out their site. Seriously. It’s almost a cult, but I drank some of the Kool Aid (which is safer, since they drank Flavor Aid at Jonestown) and I’m a convert. I plan on getting a Rucker next.

Thanks for reading! Grabbing my GR1, ’cause I’m late for work and I gotta run…

Run commuting in the cold, dark days of winter can be challenging. If you keep normal hours, you often start and end the day in darkness. Footpaths are often not as well-lit, which make running on the road itself safer, but that renders you vulnerable to passing traffic who can’t see you. In an effort to make myself as visible as possible, I looked for the brightest backpack I could find, and strangely enough found it in the black backpack produced by ProViz Sports.

ProViz Sports are a UK-based company that specialise in highly reflective gear, using 100% CE EN 20471 certified reflective material to produce clothing and equipment designed to highlight users in low-light areas. They chiefly focus on cycling and cycling products, but recently produced a backpack tailored to running (and run commuters): the REFLECT360 Running Backpack.

Test Model

Size: Small

Carrying Capacity: 10L, 610 cu. in.

Cost: AUD $95/US $70

Add-on: None

Performance and Evaluation

It’s worth noting here that I travel light as my work clothes are on site, so I tend to go for bags 15L or smaller. As of writing I have covered over 100km with this pack, carrying my lunch, spare clothes, phone, stethoscope and important documents. The average weight for my setup is about 2 kg or 4 pounds.

I really liked the feel of this backpack. When packed well and adjusted correctly, the bag sat really snugly against my torso, and didn’t feel too loose or too tight. Despite the lack of external straps to tie down the main compartment, there was minimal bounce, which I think again throws back to the design of the backpack, which is quite compact. The back of the backpack is ventilated, and while there are no panels separating the backpack from your back, it is made of a firmer material which holds its shape quite well. I have had minimal issue with sweating or heating up so far.

The backpack has held up over sun, wind and rain, without getting too wet or soggy. It apparently can resist a 1500m water column so I guess you could go deep sea diving without wetting your belongings. But jokes aside, once it rained three times on route to work (that’s Melbourne weather for you!) and I arrived soaking wet with bone dry belongings.

The backpack has shoulder straps, waist straps and sternum straps. It has a central compartment, a smaller front compartment, two side pouches and two mesh side pockets. It did not come with a hydration bladder, although there is an option to insert one, which you have to buy separately (I did not).

The chief pulling point is the reflective fabric that covers most of the back of the backpack, several stripes across the front straps, and the stitching of the backpack itself – something I didn’t even realise until I reviewed this article. I don’t claim to be an expert on reflective material, but it certainly does reflect the light from streetlights, car headlamps and even torches very well, even more so than the neon-colored fabrics that make some some other bags. Interestingly enough, it doesn’t reflect the glare of indoor lights or sunlight, which means that you won’t blind your fellow co-workers or other commuters, should you decide to take this pack out in the daylight. One amusing thing, though: I’ve also discovered that you can use the reflection of the ceiling lights on the fabric to turn on sensor-operated faucets from quite a distance, making this a useful party trick if you’re the sort of person to have parties in the bathroom.

Reflective material aside, the quality and design of the bag really impressed me. I’ve used several run packs over the 15 or so months, and it became clear very early on that this bag was designed with run commuters and cyclists in mind. For one thing, there is very little excess strappage. The loose ends of the waist straps are designed to be tucked into side pockets, and the sternum straps had very short loose ends, which did not bother me at all. The shoulder straps and waist straps are nice and wide. Another serious plus point for me were the zippers. The AquaGuard® zippers open and close smoothly without catching no matter how contorted the bag is, which makes it really easy to access stuff from the waist straps on the go.

I have a few minor issues with the bag. The mesh side pockets are quite shallow. They look like they’re designed to hold water bottles but I didn’t dare to put any in them, for fear of the bottles falling out during the run. They probably would hold small (150ml) water bottles, but I don’t think the standard 600ml drink bottles sit very well. I mainly used the mesh pockets to hold small items such as my headlamp. Secondly, there is no compression strap over the main compartment, which means that you have to really pack your bag well. Also, the waist strap pouches, while quite roomy, could not fit my gigantic iPhone 6+, but I don’t really hold this against the pack because I’ve never found one that could! Also, it only comes in black, but this doesn’t bother me.

What I carry on a typical day

What I Liked

Very visible

High-quality design

Water resistant

Breathable material

What I Didn’t Like

No tie down straps

Side pouches still can’t fit my ginormous phone

Minimal front access pouches

Shallow mesh side pockets

Summary

This is a decent run pack, with only minor issues that I think are more of preference than necessity, and would fit the run commuter with minimal luggage wanting to run at any time of the day, all year round. It definitely lives up to its claim of being visible, but also functions well as a backpack for people serious about getting to work on foot.

From the rooftop deck of where I work, you can just about see where I live; my dorm is in the next tower directly behind the building on the left.

The feasibility of run commuting depends not only an ability to run but also the length of the commute. No matter how dedicated a runner you might be, you have to consider the feasibility of the commute distance. My decision to be a run commuter is about my desire to run as much as it is about my lack of desire to be much of a commuter. You have to travel to appreciate your home. My summer in Shenzhen, China, made me realize how much each of us can control an aspect of our lives that we should not mistake as circumstance: whether we live close to work or not. I want to stay within the limits of my ability to carry myself on my own two feet to my desk each morning. (I am doing 4.5 miles on average, in San Francisco. I might be willing to take that up to 5. I doubt I have the skill to push past that number.)

My preference has always been to have a house near the office. I am sympathetic to those who have made another choice, considering family or other factors, and far be it for me to pass judgment. But I wonder if each of us makes ourselves miserable by increasing the miles we have to journey to a job on a regular basis, while also adding to the burden on the environment with a carbon footprint more substantial than needed.

When my wife and I married, she moved into half a duplex I owned in Washington, D.C. The unit was behind a fast-food restaurant, which I took to be a convenience during my days as a bachelor, but to which she, especially as a vegetarian, objected to as a nuisance — you could just about place a drive-through order from the bedroom window. I was a law professor a few blocks away. That was not an accident, because I had sought out real estate that would be walkable to campus. In those days before I embraced the run commute regimen, however, I exhibited a moral failing that now I regret, I complained to my wife about the ten minute stroll, and I even drove sometimes (confession: often), my excuse being the heavy casebooks I had to carry. She pointed out I could become a clerk at the deli around the corner if I really wished for convenience,

Later, I had an opportunity to move back to my hometown of Detroit. I became a law school dean. My wife wished to remain in the capitol even as I returned to the Motor City. We bought an architectural landmark downtown, which was feasible in that magnificent wreck of a metropolis, symbolic of all that happened in twentieth century America, especially the development of car culture. As absurd as it might have seemed to fly back and forth, I did a few calculations, In a typical week, I commuted only as much as the average suburbanite who toiled downtown in terms of the time in transit.

This summer, I am humbled to be a visiting professor at Peking University School of Transnational Law. The institution, which uses Chinese and English as the language of instruction (I am capable only in the latter to my chagrin), is in Shenzhen, a city that sprang up as a special economic zone across the border from the then British colony of Hong Kong. I was presented the option of a dorm room in the tower for foreign experts or a long term stay at a hotel just off campus. Consistent with my philosophy, I went for the former. By my calculation, I am three minutes from the newly opened law school building at a crawl or probably ninety seconds in a sprint. (The old building was even closer, across a reflecting pool.) It being typhoon season, last Thursday I was at the exact midpoint, having waited for a clear moment, when the skies opened again. No benefit to you turning back, I trudged forward, arriving drenched.

Other than that, my stint here has been without mishap. Since I am overseas, and only temporarily, I feel as if my horizons have expanded, not constricted. It is true I live so close to work I can come back “home” for lunch. That is an advantage. I love being embedded within the community. I am dedicated to my teaching. There isn’t a moment wasted in traffic. I always can wander farther for entertainment. One night we journeyed to an Italian restaurant in an upscale mall. My sense of scale adjusts. Thanks to the ability to hail a car when needed, I am not constrained.

I like the countryside and rural areas with open space — for a weekend excursion. I would rather not be stuck in a subdivision where I would depend on an automobile even to shop for groceries. There are material benefits to population density. There are costs too of course. Yet on the whole, to run commute is to engage directly with the people around you, on the ground. It is to value human interaction, sustained relationships, and civic engagement.

The gym of Peking University’s Shenzhen Campus

I find myself in an unlikely place to resume running. I am in Shenzhen, China this summer. For those not familiar with the boom town, which boasts one of those stories that defies belief but exemplifies the power of the global economy, it is on the mainland next to the former British colony of Hong Kong. After being granted permission to experiment with capitalist markets early on, it developed into the third most significant city of a nation that continues its rise, ranking with Beijing and Shanghai. Like everything else that happens with a population exceeding a billion, the place is one of those you-have-see-it-to believe-it phenomenon, with the constant of change promising opportunity to all who would pursue it. As many skyscrapers and apartment complexes have gone up in short order, there remains more foliage and open space, less traffic and pollution than you might expect or fear, relative to rival metropolises.

While here to teach American law at Peking University’s southern satellite, in English — itself a test of how the world will come together — I am trying to recover from a health challenge. This is not easy. The heat is much higher than I am accustomed to. The humidity too. Climate change likely is worsening matters. The locals complain that it is worse even than they can withstand.

But thanks to jet lag, I need no alarm to cajole me. I am up before dawn whether I’d like to be or not. At that hour, however, I still feel assaulted by the air. It is clear that the mugginess will be overwhelming later in the season.

The first Monday, I met a new colleague, also from the States, for a walk. We had made arrangements via email before our respective departures. I had anticipated I would need to be up and about, as soon as it became light outside. We met at the business school that is a new start up even among new start ups. The Starbucks in the corner of the building was a convenient landmark. It offered a means to ask for directions without Mandarin language fluency.

Our morning meander was easygoing. There were multiple outdoor tracks we could visit. Three different universities, all leading institutions of higher education well established elsewhere, had been recruited by the local government to considerable acreage near the zoo. Each school had its own facilities. There also is an impressive gymnasium opened especially for a major athletics competition a few years back. That is on the list of attractions to check out. Its first-class equipment apparently is under-used. Perhaps the indoor course will be the best venue for further training.

We saw a few others exercising early. One or two solitary figures were engaged in qigong rituals, calm and calming to observers, with the silent fluidity of contemplative motion. A couple male runners, shirtless, were making good time. Street sweepers were finishing their shifts, construction workers beginning theirs. Female students riding bicycles or strolling arm in arm carried umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun. A few guards kept an eye out. There were fisherman hoping for a bite, their lines cast into a canal that ran along the perimeter of the grounds. Signs warned of snakes. They are mildly poisonous.

By a permissive standard, I have become a run commuter again. I am housed in a dormitory for, among others, foreign experts. I can mosey along the paved path to the law school in about three minutes; probably a jog would take me there in under two. It could not be more convenient for a short stay. Immediately upon arriving at the office, I had to return to my residential unit, because I neglected to bring an appropriate adapter for the electrical outlet. I thought briefly of doing without until the battery was exhausted, but I realized it would be unconscionably lazy to avoid the extra trip.

According to my GPS watch, I logged ten miles. An additional adventure was finding my own way to the administrative office to load credit onto my ID card. The campus is cashless. I did what I do while in Asia. I accost random non-Asians for help. A young European pointed me toward the proper office for my errand.

My initial plan was to shower twice. I figured I would sweat enough to need it. I instead am on a schedule of thrice. I wonder if I will adapt. Otherwise, my wife has warned me via our international video calls, I will dry out my skin and wash away essential oils. I cannot resist though. Even well short of the environmental maximums that will be hit in mid-August, I cannot make myself comfortable. I am aware of my body, in that manner that impairs the mind doing anything else other than dwelling on the flesh that constitutes one’s self.

Nonetheless, I am glad. This is progress.

The path along the canal where I am run commuting this summer, at the Peking University Shenzhen campus.

“You are very mild,” someone said to me the other day. She meant it as a compliment; she said that she had a similar demeanor. That surprised me. Most of my life, as a child and adult, I’ve been considered more belligerent, rude, grouchy, and sarcastic.

I attribute the progress to run commuting. Physical health and mental health are bound together in a cycle either vicious or virtuous. Regular exercise has positive effects for body and mind. How we interact with one another depends on how we feel inside ourselves. Science can confirm such effects. We do not have to be aware of our emotions to have our lives determined by them, and, for that matter, our unconscious selves may have the better of the ego we deem to be our own identities.

Run commuting has improved my personality. It has increased my forbearance, patience, and resilience. These traits are all important. They have nothing to do with my intelligence or the skills I have developed. Yet they make me a better employee and employer, as well as a more decent person.

There are direct mechanisms at work. I must plan to run commute to ensure I have everything I will depend on during the day. I need to be mindful while on the road to avoid being run over. To get the heart pumping early in the morning circulates more oxygen, which generates ideas, making me productive as a writer. The endorphins that are released make me calm and content.

The truth is there has been more than one day I have left the house outraged about this or that. Somebody has been disrespectful, ungrateful, or otherwise aggravating. My negative sentiments dissipate over 4.5 miles though. I cannot sustain them even if I wished to do so.

Probably a study could be devised to test the hypothesis that a run commuter is less likely to be resentful. Driving a personal vehicle in a crowded city and taking public transit are also probably not good for blood pressure.

Run commuting has not made me perfect. Nothing will accomplish that for any of us as human beings. But it has made me better.

The only other aspect of my life that has had the same influence, according to observers, is marriage. Another long-time friend once told me that my wife had, as she herself would attest, changed me. Run commuting and marriage might not seem comparable. But they are. Both are activities, not outcomes. The daily physical exertion is a reminder that the constant process is as important as any temporary result. You have to keep at it if you want to maintain the beneficial effects. That is the most important insight I have ever had: our days are meant to be engaged in, not to pass by as if we had no ability to participate. Run commuting requires nothing (if you have embraced the barefoot trends, not even shoes). Yet it calls for what is most difficult to summon: initiative that only we can take.

To run commute is to insist that the world is ours. It is material, surrounding us, demanding that we involve ourselves. Even in the rain and the traffic, despite our fatigue, it is imperative that we motivate ourselves to move ourselves.

The Best Run Commuting Backpack Ever?

OMM (standing for Original Mountain Marathon) is a brand well-known to UK and Euro trail runners, but it has yet to become popular in the US, which is a pity. I would go so far as to say this is a ‘best-kept secret’ of running packs. The OMM 20L may be the best run commuting backpack ever, and for those so inclined, it doubles as the best multi-day trail running pack ever, too! It is relatively cheap, hugely comfortable, robust, thoughtfully designed, and has tons of storage room.

For these reasons, no doubt, it has been the backpack of choice for the winners of some epic races: this year alone Eion Keith was wearing it when he won the notoriously grueling Spine Race in England – 268 miles non-stop over snowy English high country in mid-winter. Elspeth Luke wore it to run 1100k over Scottish mountains in record time. And it’s not just for cold-weather conditions: Aussie pro racer Samantha Gash wore it to run the 4 Deserts races across –as the name implies–four of the world’s serious deserts. Many athletes use this pack at the 6-days, 250km stage-race in the Moroccan desert, the Marathon des Sables.

So, how does such a hardcore pack work for everyday run commuters who just want to run an hour to work through suburban streets? Brilliantly, that’s how!

Test Model

Size: One size fits all

Carrying Capacity: 20L, 1220.5 cu. in.

Add-on: Dry-bag, 20L

Best for:

Run commuters who carry larger loads on most run commutes

One backpack for both a daily run commute pack in the city and for epic runs/races such as the Marathon des Sables!

Run commuters with shorter torsos

Performance and Evaluation

Outstanding performance in a wide range of conditions. The OMM 20L is very comfortable, and performs brilliantly as a daily run commuting backpack when carrying medium to large loads. Also performs at the extreme level when used as an adventure racing pack on multi-day or stage races such as the Marathon des Sables. It says something about the versatility of this pack that many runners have used it in stage-races in the climates of both the Sahara Desert in temperatures up to 50C, and in the British winter in high mountain snow in temperatures that drop to -10C. Clearly, the OMM Adventure Light can handle extremes. It will easily handle whatever you can throw at it on a daily run commute.

For those who often run commute with a very small load, such as a shirt and thin slacks, it is possible to cinch down the OMM Adventure Light 20 tightly by running a thin elastic cord through the eyelets on the front designed for that purpose. There is no cinching cord included for this purpose, however. The front buckle strap does pull the pack quite tightly together on a vertical axis, but not horizontally.

While this pack is certainly one of the least obtrusive full-size packs to use even when carrying a small load (ie. it is not ‘too much’ pack as others would be), I’d go for a smaller pack if you really aren’t going to carry much ever. A mostly-empty pack is just unnecessary now that there are so many smaller packs on the market which are designed to be comfortable with smaller loads. I have not tested the smaller OMM packs (13, 10 and 8Ls), but if their quality is similar to that of the Adventure Light, it would definitely be worth giving them a try.

To guard against sweat seepage or sudden unexpected rainstorms, a precaution is to always put your clothes into a dry bag — which will also compress them — before loading them into the main compartment. Or, there is the option of a small, external rain-cover instead.

As mentioned above, the main compartment and the waist-belt pockets of the OMM 20L are made from a very light material that appears to be water repellent. This makes sense, given that it is designed to be used in adventure/nature races, where rain and water are common. This material does work. A few times when I thought it wasn’t going to rain I didn’t bother to use a dry bag and got caught in brief showers. My clothes remained dry. However, in prolonged rain or heavy downpours, water would soak through onto the contents.

What I Liked

Comfort

Lightness

Size

Pocket distribution/design

Thoughtful overall design

Price

What I Didn’t Like

The location of the closing clip for the main compartment

Backpack Details

Front

The closing clip for the main compartment is at the bottom edge of the front of the pack, vertically. This is unusual. It took me ages to get used to, and for weeks I kept trying to open the pack using the plastic buckle that is situated on the top lid of the pack, where the clip is found on most bags. I’m still not convinced the bottom edge is a great location for the opening clip.

Sides

On the lower half of each side of the main compartment is a mesh pocket with elasticized top edge. They are water-bottle pockets, and have been designed with great consideration for the needs of adventure runners, for whom hydration is essential. The pockets are deep, each amply holding a 600mL bottle. This is true even when the main compartment of the pack is full. The other brilliant thing about their design is that they are angled slightly backwards, so that the top of the water bottle is tilted fractionally towards the direction you are facing. This makes it easier to pull the bottles out and put them back in, while running. The bottles don’t jump out of these pockets even when there isn’t much in the main compartment of the pack. Overall, excellent design and performance.

Main Compartment and Top Access Pouch

The main compartment is basically a cylindrical sack with a drawstring closure. Over this fits a hood that buckles down with a strap that runs vertically down the front of the backpack and clips to the lower quarter of the front of the pack (the ‘weird’ strap described above). The main compartment holds a LOT of stuff. You could easily get a medium-thickness winter coat in here along with shoes, clothes and lunch.

As you can see in the photo above, there is a zipped pocket on the top of the hood that covers the main drawstring compartment of the pack. This zipped pocket is almost the same width across as the hood itself, so it can hold a wallet and phone, or even a small Tupperware container, easily.

Back, shoulder straps and waist belt

The padding on the OMM Adventure Light 20 is generous, light and comfortable. It is also positioned where you need it and not where you don’t. The back is kept firm and self-supporting by a removable foam pad that sits inside the main compartment in its own sleeve. This pad is so light, and helps keep the overall structure of the pack so comfortable, that after I tried running once with the pad removed I resolved never to do so again — it’s simply more of a gain to have the foam pad in there.

There are two identical pockets on either side of the waist belt. Both pockets close with zips. They are large enough to fit a smartphone, and there is some flexibility as the lower half of each pocket is made of a mesh that stretches slightly. I found these pockets to be very useful for carrying my phone, food snacks, and accessories like gloves, hat or headlamp.

Hydration System

The OMM Adventure Light 20 does not come with a hydration bladder or bottles. As discussed above, the side bottle pockets are perfectly designed and executed for their purpose. With both bottle pockets carrying 600ml — or 750ml at a pinch — bottles, this would give you 1.2L – 1.5L fluid. You could also remove the foam back pad from its dedicated sleeve and put your hydration pouch in there. There is no other pocket in the main compartment to hold a hydration bladder, and unless you had a completely full load it would slosh around a bit if in the main area.

Steps near my house that I climb as a test.

This is harder than I thought it would be. I had hoped to make a comeback. But the rare, serious autoimmune disease I have been diagnosed with is a doozy. Or more accurately, the drugs I am on have major side effects. After more than 75 half marathons in three years and a regular routine of run commuting 4.5 miles to work, I have been forced to take six weeks off. I have failed to show up for three different races I signed up for, even after downgrading the distance. The end is not in sight. But I am determined.

My wife, who has her own illness, gave me two pieces of advice. The first was, “Respect the disease.” The second was, “Suffer privately.”

I have failed to follow both her suggestions. I have turned the corner. I am heading in to the office, not just sitting at home.

I appreciate now, however, that I cannot simply will myself to perfect well-being. Autoimmune conditions have many triggers. Stress, and mental state more generally, are crucial factors in how the body functions. An unhappy attitude likely will cause a flare up. But its opposite does not promise a remission much less a restoration to health.

The cure is not worse than the disease. But the cure is not fun. Methotrexate, my main prescription, was a cancer drug, and it is deemed toxic. Constant fatigue, especially at my dosage (80mg once per week), is normal.

I am compelled to share though. For me, running and writing are related. When I run more, I write more. The blood flows; creativity results. In this forum, my writing is about my running. So I want to document, especially if it can help others, the process of recovery — or the ongoing adaptation to a new life. Running and writing seem solitary. But I like to run with, or at least around, those who challenge me. I wish to write for readers, even if I otherwise never interact with them.

Thus the running and the story of running will continue. I am chastened. I will have to start slow. I mean that literally, with the correct use of the word. I intend to begin again with walking. I will do a slower pace and shorter route, maybe just sauntering around the neighborhood, which has its share of hills, with my dog, to build up stamina. I have to wear a hat now and slather on sunscreen at SPF30 or greater. Severe sensitivity and the risk of burning is another issue on the list of what to confront.

Yet I am reconciled to myself. The alternative is despair or moping around. There is a better cycle. It’s likely that if I hadn’t been so vigorous in my hobby of running, which I took up only three years ago at 48 years of age, I would be much worse off at this point.

So I have to summon again that spirit that I needed to set off on the very first walk to work. I doubted then that any ordinary person could do it. I had to prove it to myself. A sense of community, that you will be supported by other souls who care, enables us in these struggles, because however independent we would like to picture ourselves the important journeys we take are in the company of companions.

I have achieved fame as a run commuter. The simple act of traveling to work by a means almost all are capable of but few consider trying makes people take notice. However, I also am on hiatus due to health challenges. That is a function of hubris. I am determined to come back. I will not retire as a run commuter until I am rendered physically incapable of undertaking the pursuit. Please allow me to share the story.

A student where I teach wrote an article about our adventure on a Friday morning in San Francisco. He joined my run commute. We actually walked for the greater part of the route, as he duly reported. He had been commissioned for a magazine theme issue on how to address stress in law school. I was flattered by the profile. He approached me with the earnest outlook that I regret we seem to destroy most effectively through the rituals of Socratic dialogue. I attribute his attitude to walking. You cannot be disillusioned while walking. Cynicism is cured by a walk. You can be mad and stomp around. But, you are eased into a better state by a good ramble on a trail in the wild or trek on city sidewalks.

It wasn’t the first time this habit had been mentioned by the press. But, given the anxiety about law school and the animus toward deans of the institutions (which I once was), the earlier entries of media coverage might be forgiven the snarkiness of our era. The authors seemed to regard walking — with students! — as a ploy, like the scam they had deemed the JD degree to be. Perhaps an invitation to walk together will be suspected of an ulterior motive, since our effort to engage with other people meaningfully has been wrecked by swipe left-swipe right encounters and the prompts to connect to “friends” with whom we enjoy a commercial relationship at best. I associate walking, however, with conversations that are genuine, an exchange between equals, side by side, since you do not talk easily if one is ahead, another behind.

Run commuting is not about garnering publicity of course. I decided to turn myself into a run commuter because it is intrinsically good. Then I continued because I discovered it is fun. By good, I mean I had a belief, in a culture that scorns any sincere feeling, that it would be morally worthwhile — without aggrandizing, it is in daily details that we establish our true character. By fun, I do not mean a moment of exhilaration as when riding a roller coaster, but the sustained contentment of the body after the heart has been pumping vigorously, which calms the mind and ultimately the spirit.

What is remarkable is that moving along on your own two feet has become remarkable. Time was, for our ancestors, it would have been normal to hike to a dinner party, stroll with a colleague on the boulevard, or put in 10,000 steps doing chores around the farm without the confirmation of any fitness tracker. Our forebears would have journeyed to the market alongside an ox pulling a cart laden with the fruits of their labors. The pace of life, and even consciousness of the lands beyond the immediate neighborhood, would be set by the measure of the distance that could be covered on human power, or maybe horseback. To await the illumination of a full moon to light the path would be literally natural.

Yet for us, driving alone in motor vehicles and soon to be driven by automatons guided by algorithms that account for the dilemma of the fat man run over by the trolley car, the notion of run commuting verges on preposterous. I have made it integral to my life. Among the most important decisions I have made, ranking with choice of spouse, is to live near work. Without judging those who have consigned themselves to a three hour round trip door to door to find a suitable home and make a living, I have concluded that I do not need a suburban mansion. Contemporary Americans reside in single-family dwellings that are twice the size, on average, as those our grandparents accepted as comfortable enough, and that exceed the expectations of our peers around the world. Where our home is, and who our partner is, are related too, in a cause and effect cycle. Until technology assisted dating, the factor that best predicted whom we would romance was their proximity; then, in settling down, a couple would negotiate about where to do so, and the community would define their own identities. We traverse more miles than any but explorers would have dared. That means there is all that much more space between us to separate souls.

All that philosophy is fine, but I have experienced a practical setback. I deserve it. I had become too confident of my abilities, that I was exercising as I had done never before in fifty years, logging 75-mile weeks with the splits improving, even entering back to back half marathons and finishing without injury. I now am ill. I probably am able to cope better, for all that exertion, without which my former self would have been laid low without as much hope.

What has happened has been gruesome. I developed sores all over my body, open wounds the likes of which provoked even my primary care physician to make a face and exclaim out loud. In addition to the blood which stained the front and back of my t-shirt every morning, soaking through the pajama top, threatening to ruin my wife’s sheets (hers, not mine nor ours, in this context), such that she insisted we lay a towel beneath to protect the mattress, my scalp exuded a waxy paste that dried into a purulent crust of blazing pain. As these decorations spread over the territory of defenseless flesh, I was diagnosed with, successively, spider bites, an allergic reaction, severe eczema, and a staph infection. I was prescribed pills and creams, to which I added experiments in whatever the pharmacy had on its shelves, ointments with honey, silver, tar, and proprietary formulas promising relief. I affixed bandages of every brand and type, increasing size, over the stigmata that would not progress to scabs, but which shone to any observer as symbols of my rot.

The proper diagnosis was a relief. It is the prerequisite to recovery. The clue was the blistering in the mouth. I was starting to sound a bit drunk when I spoke, as I sought to avoid agitating the flaps hanging from my cheeks or loose inside my lips and tried to ignore the hard white nodules that had formed a line under my tongue.

My wife’s alarm compelled me to visit the doctor’s office on an urgent call; I should have acted sooner, and it could have been an emergency. The junior dermatologist took photographs with her smartphone, to send to her senior colleague, who telephoned immediately from his Latin American vacation. He informed me this was pemphigus vulgaris, a rare, serious autoimmune condition, among the most severe conditions a specialist such as he would treat, equivalent to cancer. I was to start a course of oral steroids at the maximum dosage that could be administered safely. A biopsy would ordered for confirmation.

The tests proved it. I had joined an exclusive club of suffering. Thanks to modern medicine, the ailment is no longer guaranteed fatal — according to reliable sources, it killed off approximately 75 percent of its victims within two years, in spectacular fashion the details of which should be spared any not already familiar. It remains what kids would deem a BFD. The doctor issued me a letter stating I had a “life threatening” problem, ordering me to cancel my planned trips, and while I was grateful his verification meant full refunds from the airline the plain language sent me the message as well.

My doctor has great bedside manner; he established rapport, which made him reassuring. I looked him in the eye and asked the question: “Am I going to die from this?” His answer was a perfect laugh, followed by a simple, “No.” He did caution me that the half marathon I had signed up for was not a good idea. I had not even mentioned the vertical gain. If we have no humor, we are dead. I appreciate that my odds are excellent. We are arresting the agent of my misery. I can look in the mirror to see my enemy. By definition, “autoimmune” refers to one’s self. By some mechanism, my body has been confused into attacking itself.

For the moment, my rest has been imposed against my will. I am past the worst of this outbreak, but I may have months or years before we declare remission. My regimen now includes a series of prescriptions. They are their own problem, with side effects that impair any running, such as unrelenting fatigue and severe sun sensitivity. I may be on methotrexate for the duration, with folic acid as a supplement. I have to adjust, as others have before me. Among the salutary consequences, more abundant than supposed of sickness, is my newfound empathy for my wife. She has managed lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, and autoimmune infirmities, relying on the same remedies.

Nonetheless, for the moment, I cannot not run commute. I have to reset. It’s back to the beginning. My very first attempt was an hour and twenty, 80 minutes, and my personal record is 47 minutes. It was a five-year effort to advance from the former to the latter, a saunter to a race against myself. I will be more toward the slow end of the scale, but I can do it. I deny that my attitude is denial. My home is the same as before, my work too, so nothing is farther off than in my memory not at all dim. All that has changed is my resolve is more robust.

All of the items described in the post, with a bonus photo of the dog, Bebe.

Here is what I carry on my morning run commute. I am a minimalist. That philosophy requires discipline. Every now and then, I wish I had brought along this or that, but that is rare enough – I’m fine with the risk.

I use an ultra-lightweight backpack. It is a cheap but durable nylon number by Marmot. It isn’t specialized for this purpose. If I cinch the shoulder straps, it is stable enough. The interior contains a divider between two compartments, which allows me to stow sweaty clothes after changing. There is a little zippered top area, too. I liked it enough I bought a spare when it was on sale, so if I need to throw one in the wash or take one on a trip, it’s fine — I travel enough that I sometimes leave the extra at my elderly father’s house, so it is there when I check on him. The only problem with this model is it lacks any padding. I cannot throw it around for fear of damaging the gadgets inside. That only means I need to be careful. Or I could buy a separate case for the tablet. (For races, I switch to an Ultimate Direction vest.)

Inside the backpack, I have keys (two: house and office) with a high-powered flashlight attached, on a tiny locking carabiner. I have a driver’s license, work ID, credit card, and MUNI pass for the trip back, in a card case style “wallet;” an iPhone; and an iPad with my files for work. It is that last item that has made the run commute feasible. Basically all my data is accessible.

Oh, I also have a camera with me. I almost always have that, a real camera, typically a vintage film camera. That is extravagant. It weighs as much as everything else put together. I took up running and photography simultaneously, and for me they are associated activities. Others likely would forego the film camera.

Finally, I have a partial change of clothes: fresh socks, t-shirt, and shirt. I also have a lightweight towel meant for athletic use, about a quarter the size of a bath towel and much thinner. I sometimes carry another pair of pants or an extra pair of shoes, especially if there is inclement weather. I’d prefer not to do that though. I wear pants that are acceptable, as I judge it anyway, for a casual work environment. (My wife has a “no-fly” rule: if I am out with her, my pants must have a fly; these do.) I also have a cap, because my mother taught me to err on the side of putting something on my head when it was cold. (The running cap is soaked through with sweat when I arrive, so that has to be swapped out.)

There are omissions. I sometimes wear headphones, but I’m ambivalent doing so. If I will be going back and forth — a great day includes a round-trip run commute — I might pack a spare battery.

All of the above are shown on a list. I am an inveterate maker of lists. That is a bit OCD. But I wouldn’t be comfortable if I didn’t check off these items before I started out.

Run commuting compels me to plan. I have to consider what else I am doing that day, to ensure I bring what I need. If I am headed to the bank, for example, I add my ATM card in a separate “wallet.” But I do not want to be burdened by baggage. Most of the stuff I own, I don’t use. I no longer feel any need to acquire material goods in general, unless I am confident it will become integral to my life. I’d rather be out there running. There is always someplace else worth the journey.

All of the items described in the blog.

When you engage in an activity such as run commuting, people wonder about mundane details. Since everybody who is able to do so walks, and increasingly is conscious about it with the advent of fitness trackers, if you take up a more robust version of such a common endeavor you inspire curiosity about technique and tools. Everything I do is ordinary and easy to replicate. I share for others who wish to try out what turns out to be life changing.

My shoes are a collection of Hoka One Ones. They are maximalist, what clowns would wear if they ran marathons — I must be a good 2-1/2 inches taller in the Hokas. I have used Vibram Five Fingers. They are minimalist, essentially gloves for feet. That means I went from one extreme to its opposite. I have read casually the research about footwear. My impression, as a non-scientist, is that it is inconclusive. There is too much individual variation. Personal anatomy and stride likely matters as much as gear. For now, I prefer plush cushioning. I have three pairs of the same model, size 11 D, in solid black. They are less conspicuous than colorful options. I have wanted to try out the running shoes with the look of dress shoes. Run commuting is all about practicality. (If I do that, I will report back. I am frugal, and this innovative product does not seem to be discounted much.)

My socks are various low-cut pairs designed for running. I have had multiple unhappy experiences with wardrobe malfunctions in this regard. Many socks don’t fit and won’t stay up. That ruins the race or the morning. I have concluded, as is true with shoes, that it is important to consider the exact sizing and proper shape. I would rather be a regular with a company that has suits that fit and customer service that is considerate. I am willing to pay for those qualities.

The pants are important. Every piece of clothing is. But the pants are constant. I found a brand. I liked it so much, I decided to invest a bit of my retirement account into its stock, but I receive no consideration for that disclaimer/endorsement. My choice is Under Armour. My rationale is they have a bit of stretch to the fabric. There are multiple models that are appropriate for exercise and after. That saves significantly on the change of clothes that otherwise would have to be carried with a separate pair of dress slacks. One side effect of all the running is lots of laundry. I generate a half hamper of sweat soaked stuff every twenty-four hours. I do a load of wash, in a high-efficiency front-loader, just about every day. When guests visit, I am always haranguing them for dirty clothes to throw in.

The shirts are less particular. They are all lightweight activewear tops made of synthetic fiber or merino wool. They have in common breathability, conspicuity, and bargain pricing. They’re whatever was available at the mail-order outlet, one of a half dozen I track, all of which send me deals via email. I was a patron of Ibex, an American manufacturer that, alas, went out of business. I stocked up on their gear during their final sale, and I lament that the global marketplace has made it difficult for entrepreneurs such as these folks to sustain their ventures.

Underwear merits mention. I have a story about my switch. I ran one of the North Face Endurance Half Marathons. It had over 3000 feet of vertical gain, which I can attest is not inconsequential. I was joined by a college friend. He beat me by seven minutes, which I realize is considerable. I felt good, however, that when we had our post-race brunch, he had to excuse himself after eating only a bite, because he needed to lie down for an hour and a half nap. An experienced road racer, much more fit than me, he also is wiser. When I complained about chafing, he inquired about the details of my outfit. He kindly informed me nobody was still in cotton boxers for distance running, and that had changed not long after we graduated from Johns Hopkins University in 1988. On his advice and counsel, I am happily in technical briefs. I vouch for the difference, even if I gloss over the details. Suffice it to say, wicking of moisture is to be commended.

Where I live, when I start out it’s usually foggy and about fifty degrees. For outerwear, I put on a high-viz fluorescent yellow windbreaker about half the time. It is not labeled as specialized for running. I almost always start off with a cap, too. I have several super thin wool skullcaps. If it is raining, I have a SealSkinz waterproof version. Although it is slightly too heavy, I prefer it to wet hair.

All of the above is “quotidian.” That is an apt word. It is a fancy synonym for “daily.” Perhaps others will benefit from seeing how simple it is to take up run commuting.